The Summit
Chapter 5 – The Summit
The last stretch to the summit felt less like climbing and more like insisting.
The air was thinner now, sharp enough to sting the throat. Wind snapped at jackets and cut through fabric as though it had learned every weak point. The steps were higher, uneven, slick with moisture, and each one asked the same question in a different way:
Do you still want this?
Aleem did not answer with words.
He answered by continuing.
Dasha climbed beside him, her breath steady but deeper now. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with the kind of focus that came from pushing beyond comfort. She did not complain; she simply adjusted and moved forward.
Aleem admired her, and the admiration was no longer casual.
It had become something that sat in his chest and refused to be ignored.
When the final sign appeared–an arrow with the remaining metres–Dasha let out a short laugh, half disbelief, half relief.
“We are actually doing it,” she said.
Aleem’s voice was slightly rough from the cold. “We are.”
Dasha glanced at him, eyes narrowing with playful intensity. “Do not pretend it is not hard.”
“It is hard,” Aleem admitted. “But you are harder.”
Dasha blinked.
Aleem realised how that sounded.
He cleared his throat, trying to salvage it. “I meant… your determination. Your resilience.”
Dasha’s smile grew slowly, amused and pleased at once.
“I understood,” she said.
Aleem exhaled through his nose, a quiet laugh.
They climbed the final steps.
And then, suddenly, the path opened.
A platform.
Railings.
The summit.
Fansipan did not announce itself with grandeur. It simply presented itself like a truth that had always been there. The wind was stronger up here, relentless, sweeping across the open space as though it was attempting to clear the mountain of everyone who had dared stand on it.
Clouds rolled beneath them, thick and bright, as if the world had been turned upside down and the sky had decided to settle at their feet.
For a moment, Aleem forgot to breathe.
Dasha stepped forward to the railing, hands on the cold metal, her eyes widening.
“This…” she whispered.
Aleem stood beside her.
Words felt too small.
They had barely taken in the view when a familiar voice cut through the wind.
“ALEEM!”
Aleem turned.
ABIX were there.
He had expected to meet them after the climb. He had not expected them to appear at the summit itself, jackets zipped up, cheeks red from cold, eyes bright with the triumph of arrival.
Crystal was already waving as though they had conquered the mountain and deserved applause.
“I cannot believe you made it,” she declared, sounding offended on Aleem’s behalf. “You usually complain about stairs.”
“I do not complain,” Aleem said.
Ivan’s expression was calm, but his eyes were alert. “You complain internally.”
Belle’s smile was soft. She stepped closer, looking at Aleem and Dasha with open warmth.
“You did it,” she said, genuine delight in her voice.
Dasha turned slightly, surprised by the sudden presence of his friends.
Aleem made quick introductions.
“This is Crystal,” he said, nodding toward the one who looked most ready to interrogate. “This is Ivan. And this is Belle.”
Dasha’s gaze moved across them, assessing without judgement.
“It is nice to meet you,” she said politely.
Crystal’s eyes sharpened in immediate interest. “You have excellent English.”
Dasha smiled. “Thank you.”
Ivan nodded once, respectful. “Nice to meet you.”
Belle offered her hand and spoke with her usual gentleness. “I am glad you could join us.”
Dasha took Belle’s hand briefly. “Thank you. It has been very enjoyable.”
Crystal glanced between Dasha and Aleem with the satisfaction of someone who had just confirmed a hypothesis.
Then she announced, “We are taking photos. Everyone. Before the clouds shift again.”
Ivan, already practical, had his phone out.
Belle laughed softly. “We really should. The fog moves quickly.”
They took photos at the summit sign, then at the railing. Crystal demanded multiple angles. Ivan complied with patience. Belle tried to make everyone look natural.
Aleem stood beside Dasha, shoulders close.
Their hands brushed once.
Neither of them moved away.
After the photos, ABIX drifted away to explore the different viewpoints and structures scattered across the summit.
Crystal tugged Belle along with enthusiasm. Ivan followed, scanning the area with quiet vigilance.
Aleem and Dasha remained near the railing.
For a moment, they were simply two people staring into a world of cloud.
Then the wind shifted.
It came stronger, sweeping across the platform, lifting Dasha’s loose strands of hair free from her tie. The dark strands caught the light, tangled, then fell across her cheek.
Dasha raised a hand to push them back.
But before she could, the wind lifted them again.
Aleem watched.
He watched the way her hair moved as if the mountain was painting her with invisible hands. He watched the way she blinked against the cold, lashes dampened by mist. He watched the line of her profile as she looked out at the clouds with quiet wonder.
The view was magnificent.
But it was not the view that held him.
Aleem’s breath caught.
He had travelled to see landscapes, cities, seas.
Yet this, for reasons he could not justify, felt like the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.
He wanted to tell her.
He wanted to say something worthy of the moment.
He wanted to lead.
But his past rose up inside him like a reflex.
The memory of being hopeful and being punished for it.
The memory of stepping forward and being made to feel foolish.
The memory of crying once–only once–because he had believed in someone too much.
Fear did not come as panic.
It came as restraint.
It came as a tightening in the chest, a carefulness that disguised itself as maturity.
Aleem’s lips parted.
No words came.
Beside him, Dasha turned her head.
“Why are you quiet?” she asked.
Aleem forced a small smile. “I am taking it in.”
Dasha’s gaze sharpened slightly. “The view?”
Aleem hesitated.
Then, because he could not lie to her–not here, not in this air, not with this sky beneath their feet–he said softly, “You.”
Dasha went still.
The wind continued to move around them, indifferent to the shift.
Dasha’s expression did not soften into shyness.
It clarified.
As if the words had confirmed something she had already been holding.
“It has been one day,” she said quietly.
Aleem’s stomach tightened.
He braced himself for the logical dismissal.
But Dasha continued.
“And I know how it sounds.”
She turned back to the clouds, one hand resting on the railing.
“I travel alone because it is easier,” she said. “Easier than letting people in. Easier than being disappointed. Easier than explaining yourself to someone who will not stay.”
Aleem listened, throat tight.
Dasha’s voice remained calm, but it carried a quiet intensity.
“Yesterday, when you spoke to me, I felt something,” she said. “Not because you were charming. Many men are charming. But because you were… genuine.”
Aleem’s hands curled slightly inside his gloves.
“I am not asking you to promise anything,” Dasha said. “I do not want a promise made out of excitement. I want truth.”
She turned then, facing him fully.
The clouds behind her made her look like she had stepped out of the sky itself.
Aleem’s breath caught.
Dasha met his eyes.
“I feel a connection with you,” she said. “And it is strange because it is fast. But I would rather be honest than pretend I do not feel it.”
Aleem stood very still.
A part of him wanted to retreat.
Not because he did not want her.
Because he did.
Wanting had always been his weakness.
He swallowed.
“Dasha,” he began, voice low. “I…”
His words faltered.
He hated himself for it.
Dasha did not move away. She waited.
Aleem exhaled slowly, forcing himself to speak plainly.
“I feel it too,” he said.
The words left him with a trembling relief.
“But I am afraid,” he continued, because honesty demanded the rest. “Not of you. Not of this. I am afraid of how quickly I could start to care. And how stupid I might feel if I care alone.”
Dasha’s gaze softened.
She did not pity him.
She simply understood.
“You cared before,” she said gently.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And you were hurt,” Dasha said.
Aleem did not answer.
The mountain wind filled the space.
Dasha stepped closer.
Not enough to corner him.
Just enough to show she was not afraid.
“Aleem,” she said quietly. “I am not your past.”
The words were simple.
But they landed with weight.
Aleem stared at her.
He wanted to say he knew.
He wanted to believe it fully.
Instead, he lifted his hand slowly, almost as if asking permission.
Dasha did not flinch.
He reached toward her face and gently moved the strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
His fingers brushed her skin.
Dasha’s eyes fluttered for a second.
Aleem’s voice came out quieter than he intended.
“That is why you scare me,” he admitted.
Dasha’s mouth curved.
“Good,” she said.
Aleem blinked. “Good?”
“Yes,” Dasha replied. “Because it means you feel something real. If you did not, you would not be afraid.”
Aleem’s throat tightened.
He let out a small laugh that sounded like disbelief.
“You make everything sound so simple.”
Dasha’s gaze remained steady. “It is simple. Not easy. But simple.”
Aleem inhaled.
He felt the old instinct to remain cautious.
To remain controlled.
But he also felt something else: a quiet defiance toward his own fear.
He wanted to be brave.
Not for a dramatic gesture.
But for a real one.
He stepped forward.
He wrapped his arms around her.
It was not a celebratory hug. It was not the quick, polite kind.
It was the kind of embrace that admitted the truth his mouth struggled to say.
Dasha’s arms circled his waist immediately, as if she had been waiting for him to choose.
Aleem closed his eyes.
The wind roared around them.
And yet, in that moment, everything felt strangely quiet.
Then, suddenly, Aleem became aware of space.
Of the platform.
Of other people.
Of ABIX.
He pulled back slightly, startled by his own boldness.
Dasha looked up at him.
Her expression held no embarrassment.
Only warmth.
Aleem exhaled, shaking his head softly. “We just…”
Dasha’s smile sharpened with a hint of mischief. “We just did.”
Aleem laughed under his breath.
And then a voice called out.
“Aleem!”
Belle.
Aleem turned.
Belle stood a short distance away, phone in hand, eyes bright, smiling as though she had just witnessed a scene she would remember for a long time.
Crystal was beside her, eyebrows raised high with triumph.
Ivan stood slightly behind them, expression calm, as if he had predicted this the moment Aleem decided to pick Dasha up alone.
Crystal cupped her hands around her mouth. “Do you two want privacy or should we continue existing?”
Aleem groaned. “Crystal.”
Crystal’s grin widened. “What? I am just checking.”
Belle’s laughter was gentle. “We were looking for you. We are taking another photo.”
Ivan added, matter-of-fact, “Visibility is improving for a moment. We should take advantage.”
Aleem glanced at Dasha.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
Dasha nodded. “Yes.”
Then, as if to prove it, she reached for his hand.
Her fingers slipped into his glove, finding his palm.
Aleem felt something settle in his chest.
Not certainty.
But intention.
He looked at her and said softly, “Let us go before my friends accuse me of abandoning them.”
Dasha’s smile was warm. “Yes. Let us.”
As they walked toward ABIX, Aleem realised that something had changed.
He had not made a promise.
He had not defined anything.
But he had stepped forward.
And for the first time in a long time, he did not feel foolish for it.
He felt alive.